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The Lost: Despair
Some stories are heroic. Some stories are defiant. And some stories get swept beneath, trampled by concerns more important. This is one of those tales. Halloween comes on Earth, and coinciding with the darker time, comes a time on Cybertron....when Unicron's head eclipses the sun. The entire process lasts a few cycles, with one of the great horns casting a long shadow over Cybertron, some mechs even say that sunlight filters through the Chasobringer's eyes and it is rumored that fell things happen to those caught in that unholy gaze. Our story, our heroes are ones who may scoff at the term 'heroes'. For there are unfortunates in war, the countless victims who chose neither side either by lack of ability, or lack of purpose. In dark times such as these, only the Empties can protect the Empties. It is a dark night on Cybertron. It *should* be day, but the eclipse has begun its foul journey to block out light....and something, something in the dark has taken Empties' lives. Over the past few cycles, friends, acquaintances, perhaps loved ones have disappeared in the great scrap yard to the south. Despite the danger, despite the lack of firepower, a brave set of Empties trudge through the dark, into the untamed scrap to find friends, or at least answers.... Elita One's posed. Apocryphacius has arrived. Sanguine has arrived. Ruined Decepticon Outpost(#304RntN) - Cybertron One of the many minor Decepticon outposts on Cybertron, this one met with the same fate as many others. After the war with Unicron, it was stripped of weaponry and parts to help rebuild other, more important parts of Cybertron devastated in the war. Piles of metal are scattered about on the ground around the outpost. The massive outer doors are no more, and the upper floors have collapsed. At night, the dim lighting softens the shadows; in the daytime, the shadows are harsher. The highway continues north, and to the south there are large heaps of unidentifiable materials. Contents: Sanguine Apocryphacius The Lost First Aid The Lost(#1371Tn) Okay so this TP is a bit different than most, more than anything its a player driven story. Sure I've got things I can do but really its up to you guys to make this memorable. So let's examine what we're doing here eh? First off, everyone is playing a sandbox character of some sort. An Empty, one of the Lost. There are reasons for this. The easiest way to do this is to have a repaint of yourself, but you're encouraged to create an OC for it too. Misnaming yourself for the TP is fine too, but more creative names are fine too, as well as having some simple backstory. Now, the real thing here is horror and madness. This is why everyone plays an Empty, because we can have repercussions for actions! I want everyone to really contemplate horror and how to act to it. I say this because we're on a heroic MUSH and used to bravery, but I want to suggest that maybe less people will go out and fight evil and stay more focused on survival. That's not to say you can't go see what bumps in the night, just be prepared that you may not return! Which brings me to my next point. Death. Probably going to happen folks! Death hangs high in Unicron's shadow, and I want everyone to understand that I may arbitrarily kill your Empty. I won't do it to be a jerk, but this is a survival horror TP, these things happen. I highly HIGHLY encourage you to page me if you need to leave in the next 30 minutes and not let anyone else know. This way I can off your character without any foreknowledge of it to anyone else. I may also page you, asking you to do something for me. You can refuse if you wish, or heck, you can volunteer for something if you want! I'm just trying to add a bit more consequence and lasting problems to the TP either way. Lastly, this TP is an experiment, it may just fall apart in half an hour, it may work out well, I don't know! I hope everyone enjoys themselves, I hope everyone explores the horror genre, the 'realness' of the situation, and has some good Halloween fun! If you read all this and are cool with things, send me a page saying "Gotcha E1" Thanks, lets enjoy the night! Some stories are heroic. Some stories are defiant. And some stories get swept beneath, trampled by concerns more important. This is one of those tales. Halloween comes on Earth, and coinciding with the darker time, comes a time on Cybertron....when Unicron's head eclipses the sun. The entire process lasts a few cycles, with one of the great horns casting a long shadow over Cybertron, some mechs even say that sunlight filters through the Chasobringer's eyes and it is rumored that fell things happen to those caught in that unholy gaze. Our story, our heroes are ones who may scoff at the term 'heroes'. For there are unfortunates in war, the countless victims who chose neither side either by lack of ability, or lack of purpose. In dark times such as these, only the Empties can protect the Empties. It is a dark night on Cybertron. It *should* be day, but the eclipse has begun its foul journey to block out light....and something, something in the dark has taken Empties' lives. Over the past few cycles, friends, acquaintances, perhaps loved ones have disappeared in the great scrap yard to the south. Despite the danger, despite the lack of firepower, a brave set of Empties trudge through the dark, into the untamed scrap to find friends, or at least answers.... Zeropoint, a short, stocky yellow Empty with gangly long arms is in the group, he has one headlight working as a mounted shoulder flashlight. The Empty is in moderately good repair, though low on firepower as most of the Lost are. His blue eyes scan the darkness as a scene familiar starts to become dark and dangerous. "I don't like it. no I don't." He fingers his sidearm, a modest energy pistol. "Dangerous in the dark, Predators...Predacons. Always hunting, always lurkin..." He uneasily shifts as the group starts its rudimentary investigation. Axel's optic doesn't normally look bright, but here in the darkness it really shines. The miscoloured mech, carrying his yellow right arm in his red left hand, trudges along with the others. "I keep telling you guys," he says for the one thousand, two hundred and seventy-eighth's time, "From here it's just a short trip north to the highway, where we can flag down an Au-bzzzzzzz..." Axel smacks himself in the head with his arm, continuing on without otherwise skipping a beat. "Autobot patrol. From there we can hitch a ride to Retoris. I heard they've re-opened the border. Come on, Zeropoint. Forget the dark. Focus on the positive. I bet they're practically begging for skilled labourers in Retoris." "Skilled?" Oxide replies to Axel with little more than a grunt. The old bot, rust stains stretching down from each joint to where the next has ground the grime off. "I wouldn't trust you with tightening a brand new Iacon bolt, Axel." The hunched over Empty shuffles along nonetheless, his right knee joint creaking and scraping with each labored step. Oxide has to support himself with a cane, but he keeps up. He looks like he might have been a robust bot once, before whatever malady struck him down. A big barrel chest, colors in a faded red and white, big forearms and big lower legs are all crumpled and simply rusting away. "Don't need to worry 'bout Predacons, neither. Getting high on yourself, Zeropoint." He taps the leadbot's thighplate with his makeshift cane. "Not even monsters want your energon." Zeropoint scowls, "Like anyone's afer you either, old mech." His eyebrows drop into that same hard expression he tends to carry. "All I know is that somethin's out here. We chase it off and that'll be that...." He adds as the dark closes in around the group, "Heard that Tread showed up again finally, was babbling, all crazy like. Messed up his place real bad like. Couldn't make Ones or Zeroes out of what he was saying." Scraps clatter off in the distance as the group continues down its path between the hills signifying the start of the Scrap Yard. "You guys hear that?" Trifle looks like he turns into an eye-hurting green and pink tiny van, but he's... missing pieces, notably his headlights and taillights. His doors. Some of his fingers. He's late to join the rest. A bit of a daydreamer, perhaps, but it's unwise, in any case. Trifle calls out quietly, jittery, "Trifle, here." First Aid waves his hand dismissively at Oxide--attached to the arm he's holding, of course. "I'll have you know, /Oxide/, that I was the best tool and die man on Cybertron before Vilnacron went under." While he's friendly to everybody else, Oxide just rubs him the wrong way. Always a snide comment coming from that one. "I oughta disconnect his vocalizer while he's recharging," Axel mutters, though he's a bit louder than he intended. At the mention of Tread, Axel perks up, "What, seriously?" He rubs his chin in contemplation and concern--again with the arm he's holding. "I thought I re-wired his brain so that wouldn't happen anymore..." When there's the sudden noise, Axel practically jumps. "Who's there?" he calls out. Axel waves his hand dismissively at Oxide--attached to the arm he's holding, of course. "I'll have you know, /Oxide/, that I was the best tool and die man on Cybertron before Vilnacron went under." While he's friendly to everybody else, Oxide just rubs him the wrong way. Always a snide comment coming from that one. "I oughta disconnect his vocalizer while he's recharging," Axel mutters, though he's a bit louder than he intended. At the mention of Tread, Axel perks up, "What, seriously?" He rubs his chin in contemplation and concern--again with the arm he's holding. "I thought I re-wired his brain so that wouldn't happen anymore..." When there's the sudden noise, Axel practically jumps. "Who's there?" he calls out. "You couldn't cut the transformation cog out of a protoform." Oxide replies to Axel, but he grins in a way that makes his once strong, jutting jaw look like it's on slightly crooked. When Zeropoint notes the sound, the old mech is merciful enough to stop so that his knee stops creaking. "Hrn." Dim blue-green optics peer into the distance, while a finger taps idly against a cane. "...Nothing. A bit of wind. Or Tread waiting to jump out at us, Emperor o' the Scrapyard, Junkimus Prime. Heh." He starts forward. Zeropoint scans over the same area Axel does then grunts, moving back on. "Protoforms..." He mutters, "...and if you're the one that repaired Treads, then you need your brain rewired too. He was all sorts of messed up. His vocalizer was in backwards! An even after Cables fixed THAT he kept glitching out." Further up the path, one of those strange Cybertronian spires that dot the landscape as trees might awaits. Oxide's optics are still as finely tuned as ever, at least in this regard, as he is apt to spot a small pool of Energon at the base of the tree, no bigger than a half-day's ration. Axel squints his optic into the darkness. "I can see you out there!" he shouts, waving his arm around threateningly. "Don't move!... Come out with your hands up." He doesn't quite realize how contradictory this is. "We're... bzzzt, we're very armed and very dangerous so you had best listen to us!" Without taking his optic off of the direction where the sound came, Axel hisses at Oxide, "I'd cut the transform cog out of /you/ if you still had one. You two hush up about all my hard work. I can see someone out there!" He frowns, "At least I thought I could..." Oxide thwaps Axel in the thigh again with his cane. It produces a resounding sound, there's still some strength in those rusted actuators after all. "Come on." He grunts towards the one-eyed bot as he shuffles towards the spire. "Energon ahead. Get at least a few of us through this slagging night, I'd wager." The old bot laughs a little. "Armed and dangerous. You'd think the Seekers were at your back, Axel. Give it a rest. Remember where y'are." Trifles waves his hands and reminds, just to be sure, "Trifle. You know me. Uhm. You know. Yes." He doesn't really want to go ahead... but he's following the other ones, anyway. The small pool of Energon is exactly that, nestled into a small dip at the base of the cybertree thing. As the group nears it, the softly-glowing liquid shudders just a little bit. Zeropoint lowers his light onto the pool. "What gives, we got a spring over here now?" Drip. Drip. The pool of Energon ripples again. Slowly the shoulder mounted light follows the motion upward, up a barely visible trail on the spire to about twenty feet up (to scale), where a body is suspended. Rotorz was never a brave mech, he was never that wise, but he didn't deserve this. The non-transforming mech with propellors's face is in a state of anguish, of pain. His internals hang loosely within his frame, his limbs placed so that he hangs from this spire. Zeropoint steps backwards, his tubby frame bashing into Trifles. "Whoa!" the mech screams, his optics turn twice as large as he raises his gun. "That's Rotorz!" Trifles is knocked over and loses another finger. After a moment of trepidation, he picks up the severed finger and eats it. he stares up at Rotorz, and he backs away, cautioning, "Uhm... maybe we should... go back? The energon might be poison. Poison that murders you and hangs up up." Axel continues to stare at the darkness for a few seconds longer, just to make it seem like he isn't actually listening to Oxide. "Looks like we're clear," he finally says, trying to sound like this was his decision to stop staring at the darkness and not stupid Oxide's. "I wasn't talking to you, lil' guy," Axel lies to Tiny Trifles. Rejoining the others, Axel checks out the energon pond. "Huh," he says. Before he can comment (with complete expertise, of course) about how pure the energon spring is, he follows Zeropoint's light up, along, and towards-- "Gaagh!" Axel exclaims. His optic widens and he reaches out to grab the nearest mech in a terrified hug. This happens to be Oxide. Oxide's big jaw gapes, and then sets upon seeing the fate that has befallen old Rotorz. Seriously who uses a z? No wonder he's an empty. The old mech has to steel himself, limbs creaking for a moment until Axel collides with his broad chest. That breaks Oxide out of it, and he responds with a lopsided grin. "Easy there, princess." His free hand pats Axel on the domeplate and then roughly shoves him away. Oxide hobbles forward, knee creaking as he bends down to check the energon. "Hrk...would it kill this mech to leak some lubricant..." He mutters. It takes Oxide a moment, but he strengthens. "Rotorz' loss is our gain." This to Trifle. "Gather up his energon." Oxide thwaps his cane at the spire. "And for Primus' sake someone with working knees get him down. He didn't deserve much but no bot deserves that..." Zeropoint shines the light back up there, "Maybe we could knock him down?" The yellow one grabs a piece of scrap, then chucks it at Rotorz still form, all grey and haunting in the night. A piece of his internals creaks, then the entire mess of his cogs, gears and fuelpump all drop just at once onto anyone standing close by. His frame however stays up there. The crashing din echoes into the night, amplified by the sheer stillness of the night. "I uh...can give someone a boost I guess." He keeps glancing back up there as he hesitantly approaches the spire. The squat mech holds his hands out, uneasily continuing his look about the area. "Hey uh...Trifles, you're small, why don't you see if you can knock him down?" Axel slowly disentangles himself from Oxide, though he's still staring at the strung up mech in horror. "W-how can you say that, Oxide?" Axel cries. "Rotorz was our friend! Not just so-bnzzzzzzzzzzzztt!" Axel smacks himself with his arm a few times, but now he's shaking. Sparks shoot from some of his joints as he gets nervous. When he gets nervous, he starts breaking down. "ooom-m-m-m-m pile of parts for us to scavenge!" Still, he doesn't do anything to stop anyone from going and grabbing all of Rotorz's stuff... provided he gets his share. Trifles has to point out, "Would a tall mech not be better at knocking him down than a short one? I am just saying..." "No friend of mine." Oxide grouses in a tone that indicates he might not have any friends at all. He brushes an errant timing belt off of his shoulder. "Look at it this way, Princess of Tarn: something big and bad just came along and gutted our 'dear friend' from codplate to optics. And then it left him lyin' around." Oxide turns his optics on Axel. "You wanna stand here an' argue phi-lo-so-phy with me when you could be gatherin' up this scrap and gettin' out of here? You think Rotorz wanted his parts rustin' out here, or grindin' in some Cyberbeast's belly when you could be keepin' 'em safe an' warm?" Oxide huffs, shuffling towards the energon pool. "I ain't so proud." He gets down on his good knee, and scoops some up. Only his share, though. Zeropoint grimaces, "Well..." He looks over at the old coots next to him. "I don't think I can hold up anyone bigger." He flexes his thick arms, "Ole joints aint holdin out too well." The mech finishes grimly. He steps back, looking up to the body, "Guess he's stayin put then, unless someone has a better idea." Oxide's words ring true, and soon Zeropoint is up there as well, gathering up a few things. "Yeah...yeah he's makin sense." The big mech grabs a strut that had managed to fall as well. And that's when it is seen. In the cross of lights from the party as they move to gather up fallen remains, a strange figure appears. A Cybertronian almost certainly. A tall figure but unnaturally thin. His arms and legs are well out of proportion, giving him a strange alien look even in a world filled with variety. The figure is in mostly black, only a few singular white spots on his torso, as if to suggest elegant Cybertronian clothing. His face is blank, no mouthpiece, no eyes. Nothing. The figure stands there in the illuminated spot quietly, as if not registering the notice, the attention, or perhaps even the body nearby. Fear is a weapon. A weapon of.. The Slender Mech. Trifles takes a few steps back, optics wide. Freaky Transformers who aren't falling apart are probably Factioned, he thinks, either Autobot or Decepticon. Neither badge means much to him. Every Empty knows that the Autobots have their sickos. Axel frowns at Oxide, not wanting to admit that the cantankerous bastard has a point. "I guess Rotorz would have wanted it this way," he concludes. The mech kneels--sparks shooting out of his knees when he does--and scoops up some energon. His share and no more. The mech creaks and groans back up to his full height, nodding to Trifles to tell him that, yes, it's ok to go help Zeropoint get Rotorz down. Then the figure appears, and Axel spasms again out of shock. "Wh-." Axel says as he stares at the Slender mech. Unlike the last time when confronted with the unknown, this time Axel only stares in muted fear. "The Pit are you starin' at, get that bot down!" Oxide gestures with his cane towards Rotorz in an attempt to get Axel's attention. He's back on both feet and slowly turns to regard the new arrival. The rusted bot goes silent, regarding the specter with slowly narrowing optics. The hand holding his cane is shaking, but after a quick glance at his compatriots the hunched mech shuffles to a more stable position. "And who are you supposed to be, huh? You crawl out of Megatron's exhaust pipe?" Oxide's bravado is stretched pretty thin over his words. The Slender Mech does not respond. He does not move, yet his gaze tells his tale in a way mere words could not. Zeropoint starts to back away first. "I don't...I don't think..." The Slender Mech's presence fills your minds with strange thoughts, unable to fully comprehend what he, what IT wants. That there's just something so unnerving, so WRONG about what this creature is. As Zeropoint turns to run, it seems he is not the only one unafraid for Axel is already missing. The light upon the strange creature fades as Zeropoint's shoulder light turns as he runs. He murmurs, "no,...no no!" before scrambling away, panicked and unable to understand WHY he is afraid. "Oxide... don't..." Axel starts, but his words trail off into staticky stammering again. He reaches out with the arm that he's holding in order to grab Oxide's shoulder. His hand passes through empty space where Oxide's shoulder was. Axel blinks. He looks at his arm, but can't see it. Then he doesn't see anything. Trifles is terrified. He's a coward, but he's the type of coward who wants to survive rather than the kind of coward who freezes, so he turns and starts running, but this... may also be a bad idea, because it will soon make him alone again. Oxide staggers with the force of the thing's presence. But he can't run. Literally, he can't, his knee seizing up as he faces down the terror. Oxide glances to one side and then the other. Zeropoint, check, Trifle, running away...but no Axel. "What'd you do with the kid, you tin-toed scrapheap?" Oxide's voice waivers, but he stands pat, letting his cane drop. "You think I'm afraid of you? Unicron's shadow, pah!" Might as well buy time for the others. All of Oxide's joints are shaking with the primal fear even as he raises his sizable fists. "I served in the Optimus Prime's army, and back then they called me /Ironbreaker!/" A bit of fresh energon flies from Oxide's mouth, as if being in mere proximity with this creature is breaking him down. "Come on, then! Do your worst!" Oxide's knee sounds like it's about to rattle apart, his optics wide and crazed. As Trifles and Zeropoint flee like the civilians they are, a lone figure stands up against the size 8 creature that is the Slender Mech. Oxide buying time, possibly with his very life. His own light flickers for several moments as he stares down the faceless horror. Blink. The Slender Mech does not react. Blink. Oxide stubbornly holds his ground. Blink The Slender Mech tilts its head to one side. Blink. Strange arm-like tentacles appear out of the Slender Mech's back.